


Scotland | I'm Terrified, But the Truth is This...

by JessicaDoom



Series: Seven Shades of Summer [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Banter, Bonfires, Community: Seven Shades of Drarry, Intoxication, Language of Flowers, M/M, Midsummer, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy, Scotland, Scottish Folklore & Mythology, Solstice, Summer Solstice, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24771667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaDoom/pseuds/JessicaDoom
Summary: Okay, so…Draco Malfoy has a thing for Harry Potter. Honestly, how could he not?When Harry invites him to be his "date" to his friends' wedding, Draco goes all-in on a soul-bearing display of his real feelings for the man. Once it becomes obvious that he misinterpreted Harry's intentions, Draco begins to feel like all hope has been lost on his Chosen One ever returning those feelings. Through the magic of the Summer Solstice (and perhaps a bit too much wine), he finally finds the courage to take his shot.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Series: Seven Shades of Summer [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788955
Comments: 9
Kudos: 142
Collections: Seven Shades of Drarry





	Scotland | I'm Terrified, But the Truth is This...

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the [Seven Shades of Summer anthology](/series/1788955), the second in a series of planned collaborative projects within the [Seven Shades of Drarry](/collections/Seven_Shades_of_Drarry) collective.  
>   
> My given region for summer solstice traditions was Scotland. Although no rituals are specifically called out, you will notice a smattering of them throughout such as bonfires, the throwing of flowers to one’s sweetheart over said fires, and the symbolism of certain plants during this time.  
>   
> There’s also a playlist created for this anthology that can be found [here on Spotify](https://spoti.fi/2TEsvGg); one song for each of the seven fics included in the collection.  
>   
> Accompanying song: “Orange Trees” by Marina  
>   
> Lastly (and most importantly) I want to thank all of the other ladies in this collective. Without their help, this work wouldn't be half as polished and probably wouldn't even have been written, which would have been such a travesty. I'm honored to be a part of this group of fantastic friends and so proud of what we have been able to accomplish so far. I can't wait to make more magic with all of you on our future projects!

The familiar weight of anxiety lingered heavily in Draco's limbs, but he was used to carrying it now. He was a master at hiding the nerves after years of practice. An outsider would never be able to see through the calm façade he'd crafted. They would see his impeccable set of dress robes, his confident stature, every single detail of him perfectly in its place.

Inside, however…inside, Draco was a messy bundle of insecurity. He wanted to fidget and readjust his cravat, and he swore he could feel a flyaway hair tickling the bridge of his nose. He exhaled a heavy sigh, pushing all thoughts to the wayside for the moment as he climbed the steps of the front stoop. Before he could grasp at the idea to turn and run, he roughly rapped the door knocker. As expected, a persistent bark closely followed the knock and Draco found he couldn't help the soft smile tilting the corner of his mouth. The chaos on the other side of the door was comforting in a way he would never have expected. The barking drew nearer, accompanied by the scrabbling of excited paws on the wood floor. Behind that came the padding of small, human footsteps — just as eager and excited.

Draco could just as easily use the Floo to enter the house. Harry had long ago given him access to his home on Grimmauld Place in practically every way possible, but this felt more proper. And, he had to admit, he really did like hearing all the fuss made over his arrival.

Before the front door finally creaked open, Draco overheard the muffle of gentle admonishments followed by a retreat of footsteps, both canine and child. He did a quick check to ensure he wasn't giving in to the nervous ticks wishing to break free, slapping on a muted smile just as Harry poked his head out. A seemingly harmless action which swiftly and effectively stole Draco's very breath away.

Okay, so…Draco Malfoy had a thing for Harry Potter. Honestly, how could he not? With his hair always so endearingly out of place and that little beard he'd grown and — Salazar, help him — he was more fit than ever these days. The shape of his shoulders was swoon-worthy. How he managed to keep so attractive while working a full-time job and caring for a boisterous five-year-old was beyond Draco's understanding.

"Fuck's sake, Malfoy, how many times do I have to tell you? You don't have to knock, just walk right in."

"At least once more," Draco said with a shrug, leaning in conspiratorially. "I really can't help that my mother raised me with better manners than those Muggles did you."

Harry dramatically rolled his eyes before stepping back and holding the door open. "You always rile up the dog, which I'm sure is your scheme."

"Scheme? I don't _scheme_."

"Oh, did you finally decide to quit? Good on you."

Draco followed Harry inside, only barely holding back another snarky comment. He could banter back and forth with this man all day long but was sure it would be a point against him. It was a miracle he'd made it this far; best not to tempt the fates when they had already been surprisingly kind to him. Instead, he gently shut the door behind him, leaning against it while he held aloft the bouquet which had been dangling by his side. "I—"

"Oh, you brought them flowers." Draco felt his heart skip a beat— "That's really thoughtful of you. Neville will love them." —and then stop. Harry turned away from him and beckoned, walking down the hallway just as Draco opened his mouth to protest, deflating his confidence further with every step. "Thanks, by the way, for agreeing to be my 'date'—" he actually, physically used air quotes "—to their wedding. I had every intention of going out there to find someone to bring, but by the time I remembered…. Well, it was too late. I didn't want to just take anyone. And Luna would never let me live it down if I showed up alone. She's convinced I don't spend enough time these days with 'other adults'. And, well, Teddy was excited by the idea of you coming with us."

The more Harry spoke, the louder the rushing in Draco's ears became. The panic and humiliation drowned out his voice. He raised the bouquet — variegated red tulips and golden yellow jonquils — resenting the care he'd put into their selection. He'd spent an hour with the florist, debating what he wanted their delicate petals to convey. All for nothing. After all, he was too proud of a man to correct a concrete assumption. Especially when he was the one to have devastatingly misread the intent of the invitation in the first place.

"It's really no problem," he muttered, allowing the flowers to fall back to his side.

Harry paused a moment, eyes slightly narrowed, before nodding resolutely and continuing through the house. "Well, I think we were ready to leave." He stopped at the end of the hall, turning the knob to the backdoor. "I told Teddy to wait outside with Tater."

"Wait," Draco snapped, frowning as he finally took a moment to give Harry a once-over, hiding his indulgence behind the innocence of observation. "Surely that's not what you're _wearing_."

Not that he didn't look damn good, but Draco hardly found it appropriate for anyone to show up at a wedding in a pair of jeans. Even if the accompanying short-sleeved dress shirt did strain deliciously against one's chest, effectively pulling all focus away from the faded trousers he paired it with. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Harry looked down at himself, smoothing his palms over the cobalt blue linen. "Hermione said it brings out my eyes."

 _Well, yes, it certainly does_. Draco pushed the thought away and gestured to his own clothing. "Are you telling me I'm overdressed?"

"Oh, yes. Very."

"Were you going to _say_ something?"

A mischievous smile curled at the corner of Harry's mouth. "I thought it was done on purpose?"

"Fuck's sake, Potter," Draco hissed. He shrugged off his robes — "You have to _tell_ a person if a wedding event's attire is something other than standard." — loosened his cravat — "I swear, you still look for ways to vex me on purpose." — and undid the top two buttons of his shirt. This left him in a white dress shirt, a deep red vest, and tuxedo slacks. It wasn't casual, by any means, but it would do. With a long-suffering sigh, he draped his discarded pieces over the stair bannister. They would be wrinkled by the time he returned; it was an absolute travesty, especially since he'd purchased the set specifically for this event.

"I guess I thought you were smart enough to understand an outdoor, summer wedding doesn't require a full set of dress robes?" Harry surveyed his new look, stepping closer. "I think we need to…. Yeah, we do." Before Draco could process their proximity — _close_ , so close — Harry's fingers were in his hair, mussing it up. "Oh, hold still," he admonished when Draco took a step back in surprise, pulling him even closer. Which was fine; Draco could easily lose himself in the smell of that aftershave. "People hook up at weddings, you know." Draco froze at the implication of Harry's musing, holding his breath. _Is it still possible this is a date, after all?_ "And I'm not ashamed to admit I care enough about our friendship to see you get laid tonight." _Nope, never mind. Not a chance._ "I'm sure you'll find at least one girl at this thing who can look past your personality for the night." He almost physically sighed in renewed disappointment.

"I'm gay," Draco grumbled. He swatted Harry's hands away and attempted to restore order atop his head.

"You are?" Draco was sure Harry sounded surprised. Even though he'd been "out" since he was twelve. Everyone knew it; it wasn't like he tried to hide it. "Huh…well, a bloke, then." Harry shrugged, but he didn't seem otherwise particularly fazed by this new bit of information. Another tick in the _Potter's_ _NOT_ _Interested_ column.

Draco was officially now in a grumpy mood. He gave up on his hair — without a mirror or his hair potion, it was hopeless, anyway — and practically pushed past Harry to get out the back door. He was more than eager to get this event done and out of the way. Given enough time in the bath with a glass of brandy and that nearly-scandalous issue of _Witch Weekly_ (two words — shirtless Quidditch), he might forget this humiliation even happened.

"Draco, you're here! I missed you!"

Draco instantly brightened as he stepped out into the garden, happily accepting the bundle of five-year-old energy wrapping himself around his legs. And, a little less reluctantly, allowed the boy's dog to jump up on his hip. Dutifully, Draco scratched the golden mutt behind his mink-soft ears. "I missed you, too, sprite," he admitted, even though they had seen one another only a few days earlier. But, truthfully, he could never spend enough time with Teddy. It was why Draco was in their lives in the first place.

A couple of years previous, Harry went through the process of legally adopting the boy who had already been in his care since his parents' passing at the Battle of Hogwarts. Draco had been working on building relationships with his own forgotten family, beginning with Andromeda, Teddy's grandmother. She often cared for him when Harry had late Quidditch matches. And with Andromeda constantly inviting Draco over for dinners, he was bound to form a real relationship with the boy.

Cultivating a truce, and eventually a friendship, with Harry Potter (of all people) was just icing on the cake.

"Did you miss Mashed Potato, too?!" Teddy asked eagerly, looping his arm around the dog's neck. He'd been allowed to name the dog, his gift once the adoption was finalised. A three-year-old should never be given that level of responsibility, especially not one with such an uneducated palate.

"Yes, Mashed Potato, too," Draco assented, patting the dog gently atop his head — which only further encouraged him to take liberties against his personal space by lunging up and gently nipping at Draco's chin. He did, on some unexpected level, like the dog…but certainly not that much.

"Tater, no!" Teddy giggled and tugged the dog back by his collar, accepting the "kisses" instead. He fell back onto the ground, rolling around in a way Draco couldn't in good conscience abide by.

"Oh, I think we were just about to leave, be careful with your clothes." Teddy already had a grass stain on the back of his little polo shirt. Draco tried not to look bothered when he turned to Harry for help. For a half-second, Draco caught an odd gleam in those green eyes and faraway smile before Harry whistled for the dog to go inside.

"Bye, Tater!" Teddy called, momentarily halting Mashed Potato's progress. Harry rushed the dog along before meeting them down in the grass.

"Portkey's over here." He ushered them towards a seemingly discarded gardening glove, crouching down with Teddy standing between his knees. "Everyone ready?" Draco nodded once, willing himself to believe it as he carefully touched the glove, his fingers gracing Harry's in the second before all three of them were hooked through space by the charm upon it.

When they landed in Hogsmeade a moment later, Draco found his cheeks tellingly flushed merely from this simple, intimate contact.

~*~

The wedding itself was, admittedly, beautiful. Draco had certainly never thought of Hogwarts as a romantic place, especially not after the war and his own hand in it all. When he'd attended his "eighth" year, many wings were under construction, serving as a constant reminder of his sins. It had been haunting.

But, even looking at the once destroyed viaduct which stood gloriously tall once again, it would have been impossible to even tell a devastating battle had once been waged on these grounds.

The ceremony was held at the edge of the lake, the descending evening sun causing the lake to shimmer beautifully behind the couple. Lovegood wore a laurel-green organza gown embroidered with glittering vine appliques along her white corset bust. It fit in perfectly with their lush surroundings and complemented Longbottom's simple white suit nicely. Aesthetically, it was all very pleasing. And, romantically, doubly so.

They were sickeningly in love, and Draco found himself growing increasingly cynical at the sight of them. He was glad their vows, full of herbology puns and wispy poetry, were short — especially with Harry sitting beside him the entire time, smiling like a damned fool. It was obvious he was proud of his friends, which was sweet. But the longer they sat there, watching something so bloody beautiful, the more Draco found himself dreaming of his own future. There wasn't a single scenario he could imagine where this man beside him wasn't an integral part of it.

Just as the sun was setting behind the horizon — the impossibly late hour of the Summer Solstice sunset only adding to the romanticism of it all — the bride and groom shared their first kiss as a married couple. Draco had to look at his shoes for fear of finally shedding the tears stuck in his throat.

The reception to follow took place between the Stone Circle and the greenhouses. A dozen or so tables circled a large pile of kindling, too close to the Forbidden Forest for Draco's own comfort. Thankfully, there was plenty of wine, and since nobody seemed too keen to strike up a conversation with him, he was free to quickly lose himself and those pesky intrusive thoughts.

"Good, isn't it?"

Luna, making her dutiful rounds amongst her guests while her new husband was busy building the bonfire, stood beside Draco's table. Well, it wasn't just his, but Harry was already off making conversation with absolutely everyone else, Teddy riding on his shoulders. Since they'd laid claim upon it, Draco had been predictably all alone. He had just emptied the remainder of their table's bottle of elderberry wine into his glass when she showed up. He could only imagine how pathetic he looked from an outsider's point of view.

"It is," he answered simply, clinking his fingernail against the foot of the glass.

Luna smiled softly, tilting her head. If Draco's cheeks were as rosy as they felt, she would easily be able to clock his buzz. "Neville grew the elderberries himself," she said, draping herself into the chair beside him, carelessly wrinkling the fabric of her dress. She crossed her legs, revealing her neon-yellow jelly sandals. She was so distinctly herself and Draco couldn't deny he loved her for it. "We were picking them last summer when he proposed. We made love along the riverbank amongst the bushes; it was beautiful."

"Sounds romantic," Draco sighed, admonishing himself inwardly. This was her wedding day, and she deserved to be so wistful. She did _not_ deserve for him to be bitter about her happiness. He pushed the wine glass away, grabbing instead for his discarded bouquet of flowers. By now, he'd carried them for a good few hours. The warmth of the day had wilted their poor petals and a lack of moisture had them looking visibly parched. They looked the way he felt inside — discouraged. "Here, I brought these for the two of you. Hopefully, Longbottom knows a few tricks for their recovery."

"Oh, sweet pea…." Luna frowned, holding the bouquet for a moment before pressing it back into his arms. "I couldn't possibly accept a gift meant for someone else."

The worst thing about having a complexion as fair and smooth as alabaster was this right here. He blushed a deep, splotchy red, and there was no hiding his humiliation behind a protest, especially not with that monster of a bonfire roaring to life merely a few feet away. If his outfit wasn't ruined earlier, it certainly would be before the night was over by the lingering smoke and flying ash.

"I thought when he asked me to be his date," Draco explained, but only once he'd looked around to make sure no one was within earshot, "that he meant it literally. As you can tell, I was wrong." He once again threw the flowers to the side, resenting the sight of them.

Luna leaned in closer, patting his hand. "Your flowers speak words too quiet for him to hear," she pressed, brow rising. "Harry requires a statement to be made at a much higher decibel in order to process it." Someone on the other side of the fire called her name, and she craned her neck to try and see who. "I'm sorry, Draco; I have to go. Promise me something, though?" She waited for him to nod before standing and leaning closer to whisper in his ear, sending a chill down his spine. "Don't give up on him. Not just yet." She kissed his cheek before leaving him alone once again.

Leaving him alone with his whirling thoughts for a moment — "Draco, come see the fire!"— which certainly wasn't long enough to begin to process them all. Draco looked up from tracing the vein of a tulip, smiling in Teddy's direction despite the weight of his emotions.

The two halves of his heart were standing by the bonfire. How could he focus on how much it hurt when they were grinning so wide and beckoning for him to be by their side?

"Luna said we're putting our food in the fire!" Teddy exclaimed as soon as Draco was close enough to hear him. He adored the way the boy always said her name, drawing the sound out like the mooing of a cow.

"He means we're roasting our own dinner," Harry clarified in between muttering a retardant charm over Teddy's clothing. It was such a simple gesture, but one which made Draco's throat feel tight with emotion nonetheless.

Harry was exactly in his element, surrounded by his closest friends. His family, as he called them. Granger, her belly swollen with Ron Weasley's child, his hand resting gently upon her back. The other Weasley, the girl, stood close, touching Granger's stomach any chance she could. He smiled tightly when they all noticed his presence. None of them had ever outwardly stated they disagreed with his friendship with Harry, but they weren't exactly warm to each other yet, either. Especially none of the Weasley clan.

Most especially not the girl, Ginevra. _Ginny_. Who, admittedly, looked like a dream in her candy floss coloured thigh-length bridesmaid's dress. Was he imagining Harry glancing over at her every so often? He'd said time and time again that they were long and resolutely over with, but things could change, couldn't they?

Slowly, like the doubts might sink their grip in tighter if he was more violent, Draco shook the idea from his head. Even if Harry was still interested in her, it was his business alone. He'd made it very clear they weren't on a _real_ date. He was free to leave with anyone he chose. After all, he'd said it himself — _"People hook up at weddings."_

"You know," Draco stated in a dropped voice, leaning down with his lips close to Harry's ear, "I can help Teddy get his dinner…if you wanted to go find your wedding night hook-up."

Harry straightened with violent swiftness, an unreadable expression etched into the wrinkles at his brow. "I-I wasn't talking about…about _myself_." He burbled a nervous laugh. "But thanks for the offer? Did you, er— Anyone catching your eye?"

If Draco was being honest, he hadn't actually looked for longer than a few seconds at anyone other than Harry. Not that he would fess up to that. He pretended to search over the rest of the guests, shrugging noncommittally. "Most everyone's paired off, aren't they?"

It wasn't an overall untrue statement. Harry had mentioned when asking Draco to be his "date" that the guest list was small. Intimate. Which was very true. If he had to guess, most of those in attendance were the couple's close friends and family. And neither appeared to have many people they could place in either category. Which, inevitably, left slim pickings.

Not that Draco was complaining.

"S'pose that's true," Harry chuckled, the strangely tense air between them melting back to normal. "Guess you'll have to settle for" he paused to lean down, searching through a basket behind him " _this_ sausage, instead?" He looked so damn proud of himself, brandishing that uncooked sausage with that pathetic wink. (Seriously, how had he ever grown to be an actual adult without learning to properly wink with only _one_ of his eyelids?)

Against every rational bone in his body, Draco grinned fiercely and snorted an indelicate laugh. He barely registered Teddy whinging about how he didn't understand the joke, too caught up with the way Harry's face lit up at his reaction. Too thrown off guard.

Too far gone and too hopelessly in love.

This wasn't just a "thing" he had for Harry Potter (of all people, seriously). Back when they were teenagers, when he'd wake in the morning aching beneath the sheets with _Potter_ on his mind, he could play it off as a weird crush. Something he couldn't control because Potter had the sort of face a person might enjoy staring at, even with his glasses and unruly hair. But now that he was an adult, and he knew Harry as a person, it was different. He couldn't deny the way his heart fluttered whenever Harry spoke or the tingle in his fingertips whenever Harry did literally anything selfless. And watching him be a good father? Well, that was somehow the ultimate kink.

Being in love with Harry Potter was nothing short of self-inflicted torture. Especially since he had never given a single indication to being anything but straight. Not really. It wasn't really Harry's fault Draco had heard what he wanted to in regards to his invitation to this wedding.

"I guess that'll just have to suffice," Draco finally said once he was able to tear his gaze away.

"Put some mustard on it, it'll be almost as good as the real thing. Right?"

Draco merely guffawed, unsure how to respond in a way which didn't paint him as either a slag or a pathetic loser.

~*~

Although he would be hard-pressed to admit it, Draco did actually end up enjoying himself (at least more than expected considering his let down at the beginning). Between himself and Teddy, they managed to effectively char three of their sausages. They were inedible, which left Harry tasked with fixing them something edible. A task he actually seemed slightly proud to take on, steadily holding his roasting stick at the perfect height above the flames.

Even Harry's clan was slightly bearable when put against the background of the night. There was still a noticeable tightness to their voices when they spoke to him, but at least they appeared to be trying. Fuelled by the uplifting high of the evening, he returned the effort with surprising ease. It was a stretch to say they were friendly, but at least no one was fighting.

Overall, Draco was… _warm_. Which, obviously, was due in part to the roaring fire and, yes, because he'd willingly accepted more wine when it was passed his way. But he was also feeling warm in the way of lightness. Happiness, even. It was such a foreign, yet comforting, feeling.

It was due to this feeling alone that Draco found himself loose enough to dance when the time came. It was even his idea. He jumped up the instant the band started playing, swaying along to the soft, ethereal beat. The singer's voice was raspy and pulled at something deep inside of him. He had no idea what she was singing about — he didn't even recognise the language — but felt like she was somehow putting words to his very soul.

At the behest of the bride and groom, most of the guests were soon on their feet, as well. Luna looked so perfectly at ease with her eyes closed and her long, blonde hair flowing behind her in a hapless curtain. She danced around the bonfire in a twirling circle like a witch of Muggle lore. Longbottom trailed behind her like a hapless puppy, grinning like a fool as he moved things out of her path with his wand. Draco had never seen a single person look so in love. His heart ached at the sight, stalling his own movement as he watched them pass by him.

"I'm so happy for them," Harry sighed. Draco looked at him over his shoulder and he did, indeed, look punch drunk on their love. "I want a love like that."

"Me, too," Draco confessed. He delicately covered his mouth afterwards, feeling for some reason like he'd divulged too much.

Those verdant green eyes met Draco's for just a second, just long enough to turn him to jelly before he cleared his throat and turned them on his godson. Teddy was off a little way, wiggling his little arse in a poor excuse at dancing with his hands in Ginny's. A strange flare of jealousy licked at Draco's belly. "Someday," Harry responded, which only made the feeling worse, especially since he couldn't quite interpret if the Weasley girl was the cause of that dreamy look to his gaze.

Luna and Neville passed by them again, their breaths coming out on giggles as they twirled around one another. As she passed, Luna's hand found Draco's, interlocking their fingers before he even had a chance to think about protesting. And, feeling suddenly brave himself under his inebriated cloud, Draco reached for Harry's wrist and tugged him along after them.

"What are we doing?" Harry laughed, skipping in order to keep up with them.

"Just go with it, Potter. Live a little."

The grin Harry flashed in response nearly stopped Draco's heart. He turned away quickly before he lost all ability to even breathe, focusing on the menial task of putting one foot in front of the other. He was entirely conscious of the eyes watching them dance around the fire like that and of the way Harry adjusted so they were holding hands instead before he reached out and formed a longer chain of people behind them.

If he was ever unsettled more in his life, Draco couldn't remember when. And yet, at the same time, he hadn't ever felt any more electric. It was like lightning was sparking through him, stemming from where Harry's thumb pressed into his knuckle. He knew he was grinning like a fool, wider than he would usually allow himself to when in a sober mindset.

He was happy. He was alive. He was holding the hand of the man he loved and nothing could go wrong.

Except the song eventually ended. The string of dancers dispersed and Draco was left, reeling, almost exactly in the place he took off from. He found himself dizzy from the abruptness of it, his head beginning to spin. "I think I need to sit down," he huffed to himself, stumbling backwards a couple of steps before gently collapsing back onto the grass.

Which wasn't a terrible place to be with a view so breathtaking. A wistful lightness filled his chest, harkening him back to another time. The sky was never this bright back in Chelsea. He raised one hand, tracing the constellations and naming them off in his head. Finding his family in the stars had always set him at ease as a child, either in Wiltshire or here at Hogwarts.

Just as his index finger moved along the Summer Triangle, the grass depressed directly behind Draco's head. Harry stood above him, staring down with his head cocked in curiosity. His shirt had come untucked sometime during the evening's festivities, affording Draco a view directly up through the hem. Draco bit his lip to stop a reckless keening noise — _fuck_ , his abs — and turned his attention back to the safety of the stars.

Harry stayed there, watching Draco watch the sky for an agonising minute. His every nerve was on fire under the scrutiny. Every few seconds, he would return his gaze to Harry's, instantly averting it again because he simply couldn't handle how it felt to be picked apart in silence.

"How much did you drink?" Harry finally asked, stilling Draco's heart in much the same fashion as a missed step downward. A part of him had hoped Harry might have been stewing on something of deeper importance.

Suddenly self-conscious, Draco pulled himself (a bit wobbly) to his feet. He brushed the grass from his backside as inconspicuously as he could and, by habit, smoothed back his hair.

"I lost count," he admitted a bit sheepishly. He was sure the total exceeded two bottles of wine by now. It was probably a miracle he was coherent at all.

Harry cracked a smile and shrugged. "I can tell. You're acting a bit…not you. Just, er, wanted to make sure you're okay?"

All Draco could manage was a nod because he knew his words wouldn't be convincing enough. He wasn't really "okay". Inside, he was a moping, pining mess. Inside, he was screaming with joy and hope that Harry even cared to notice his fallen façade. Inside, he was spinning out and it was starting to bleed through to the outside.

"Good." Harry nodded his head back towards the bonfire; apparently Draco had managed to stumble a good few meters away. "C'mon, Luna's gonna throw the bouquet."

"Do I look like a single woman?" Draco scoffed even while following him back.

"If I'm answering honestly?" Harry smirked backwards at him, doing that dumb, lopsided winking thing again. "A bit, yeah."

Draco jogged to catch up with him just to throw a fist into his shoulder blade.

Harry tripped a step and chuckled a deep belly laugh. "Well, you are single! And you've got such delicate features. I mean, honestly, Draco — those _cheekbones_."

It was impossible not to blush. Harry Potter had noticed his cheekbones. He noticed him enough to describe his features as "delicate". And he just had no idea what to do with that. "Not all of us can be built like a work Thestral," he squeaked, cursing the way it made him sound so affected.

Harry stopped in front of the bonfire, far enough away from his friends to keep their conversation between them for a moment longer. "Nothing wrong with delicate or feminine for anyone. Nothing at all." As if to prove a point, he reached up to gently trace the jut of Draco's cheek. His features had filled out as an adult, guided by more consistent eating habits and general contentment, and he suddenly felt self-conscious. He tilted his head away and wondered inwardly just how inebriated Harry might be himself.

"At any rate," Harry continued, "Luna wants this thing all-inclusive. Because how dare she deter fate's whims for something so ridiculous as the construct of gender? Her words," he added fondly.

Draco nodded with a furrowed brow and attempted to peer through the fire to the other side. He could just barely make out the back of Luna's half-plaited blonde hair and her arms poised above her head.

"I wish all of you so much luck!" she called, every word sounding like a sincere prayer of hope.

Just like all the other guests around them, Draco outstretched his arms. He even saw a few of them closing their eyes and, if they were leaving things to fate, that didn't seem too bad of an idea, either. _Why not?_ he thought, allowing his lids to slide closed, as well.

For a moment, both uncomfortably long and surprisingly short, Draco was left in anticipatory darkness. He held his breath, savouring the moment of feeling almost weightless. The wind picked up gently, wafting the scent of Harry — simply aftershave and generic soap — under Draco's nose. Every sensation pooled together to construct a general stillness. Of contentment and belonging.

And then….

And then, all the other guests were gasping and buzzing with excitement, breaking the heavenly quiet. But all Draco could focus on was the pounding of his heart, so erratic despite the calm, before it came to a full stop once the weight settled into his arms.

"Whoa, Malfoy, look at you!" he heard someone — the Weasley girl, he was sure — exclaim. "Well done, mate."

Slowly, half afraid it was all a dream or nightmare, Draco peeled his eyes back open. He couldn't focus on anything but his hands, stunned to see the bouquet so perfectly nestled within them. He flexed his fingers around the flower petals, growing over-warm with a hybrid feeling somewhere between indignation and indignity. He looked up for just a second, gaze cutting hard to Luna peeking around the edge of the flames. She looked so damn proud of herself and even went so far as to knock her head in Harry's direction.

If it had just been Luna's bridal bouquet of fern fronds and buds of St John's wort in his arms, Draco might have been delighted. He might have been amused. He might have been able to laugh this all off. But with his own carefully-selected arrangement tied to it by a torn strip of organza from her gown, all Draco could manage was feeling put on the spot.

And panicked. Very, very panicked.

"Who's the lucky groom, then?"

Harry was levity and light in a pretty, bearded package. He was perfect.

This _moment_ was perfect. If ever there was a time for Draco to blurt out just how he felt, it was now in response to Harry's joke of a question. The setting was romantic, and they were both plied with enough alcohol to keep things relatively calm. Hardly anyone was even staring anymore, returning to dancing or general merriment. He would never have another more opportune time to just be out with it.

He swallowed, his throat thick with fear even despite his relaxed inhibitions. He could have easily answered with just one word. And, according to Luna, all it would have taken for Harry to understand were real, tangible words. If he could manage the conviction, his feelings would finally be obvious enough for Harry to either embrace or reject. It was so simple. It was so easy.

Wasn't it?

"You?" he finally ground out, thrusting the entwined bouquets forward.

There. It was done. His answer had come out as more of a question than a statement, lacking some conviction, but he had said it. His part was complete.

Draco closed his eyes, bracing himself for the worst. For the simple "no" or the slap or…or, Merlin forbid, even the laugh. Whatever it was, he could deal with it. In theory. At the very least, Hogsmeade wasn't too far of a walk away, so he could easily find a place to drown out the memory of this ever happening, if need be.

When no reaction came after a long stretch of awkward silence, Draco slowly peeked out through only the small slit of one eye. Harry just… _stood_ there. Staring. His brow was furrowed and Draco could almost see the gears physically turning in his brain. He imagined Harry trying to put it all together — every lingering look or too-familiar compliment. Every dropped hint or nearly-intimate moment.

But he didn't look horrified (not yet) and Draco was taking that as a good sign (for now).

"Obviously, I was jok—" Draco attempted to backpedal, lowering the flowers once again to his side, once he felt the silence had gone on just long enough. But he was cut off sharply, his words dying on a gasp, as Harry suddenly grasped his wrist. He pulled Draco away from the crowd, dismissing his friends' questionings with a grunt and a wave.

He didn't stop until they were right there at the forest's edge, releasing Draco's hand slowly like he might be unsure of the action. Draco eyed the trees over Harry's shoulder, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest from both vivid memories and festering dread. As difficult as it was to meet the vivid green of Harry's eyes, he forced himself to hold that still-imploring gaze. It was the most comfortable of his two present demons.

"I should have known, right?" When Harry finally spoke, his voice sounded strained. Like the words hurt to say. "I mean, I definitely should have known how you felt. I should have. I've been stupid not to notice, haven't I?"

With imperceptible slowness, Draco shook his head back and forth. He'd tried over the years not to be overt about his feelings, mostly to avoid being rejected. Sure, there were signs, but he couldn't honestly say he would have expected Harry to pick up on them. Even if he had been a more perceptive person in general….

"Look, Draco—" Harry began, but Draco quickly headed him off.

"You don't have to say it." He massaged at his temple, wishing his head would stop spinning so he could feel grounded again. "It was naïve of me to assume you had asked me to this wedding as your actual date. It was _…ridiculous_ of me to bring you flowers upon that flawed line of thinking." He unknotted the two bouquets before flailing the one he'd brought. "These flowers, not sure if you'd worked that out for yourself by now." He sighed and tossed both of them aside. "I should have left it all as a schoolboy crush and I…I _apologise_ if I've made you feel uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable?" Harry lifted a brow, barely holding back a smile. The word seemed to have shaken him from his daze. He made to step away, and Draco was sure he was going to leave him there, hyperventilating and heartbroken at the edge of the Forbidden Fucking Forest.

But Harry merely reached down to grab the discarded flowers. Coming right back to where he was a moment ago, only now with his eyes downcast to where he caressed the petals of Draco's bouquet with a single fingertip, Luna's for the moment tucked under his arm. "Thank you for the flowers, even if I was too daft earlier to understand that they were for me. They mean something, don't they? Flowers? What do these ones say?"

Draco pulled in a deep breath, very much feeling like his heart was right there on his rolled-up shirtsleeve, bared wholly and begging for judgment. "The tulips say that you have…the most stunning pair of eyes I have ever seen. Nothing you haven't already heard, I'm sure." He pushed the spent breath back out, knowing there were tears brimming at the corner of his own eyes. He'd never spoken any of these feelings aloud and the pain was like ripping a plaster off a barely-healed wound. "And, er…they're a simple declaration of my love without the triviality of words."

Harry gave no indication of how he felt, either way. He merely soldiered on, stone-faced as he pointed to the yellow flowers. "What about the other ones, then? Daffodils, right?"

"Jonquils." Draco winced, cowering at even the idea of sharing the more raw and real things Harry made him feel. "They, uh…. They convey the rest of my heart. All of the desire within me for every broken and perfect piece of you. They tell a story of every second I have spent falling for you. Of every time I ached to be at your side. Of every touch I wished would have lingered. Of every time I wanted to…to hold you. To kiss you." Of course, Draco had wished for much more than what he spoke of, but he could hardly endure the embarrassment of even the innocent desires he'd expressed. It would have been impossible to describe to Harry all of the nights he'd spent dreaming of things more carnal and headier in nature.

Clearing his throat, Draco finished more solemnly, "In short, my arrangement is a question, Potter." He lifted his chin, attempting to portray a far braver face than he felt. It took every ounce of his strength not to avert his eyes from that imploring sea of crystalline green. "A question which requires a very simple answer. I'll respect whichever one you give.

"Harry James Potter…I love you with every breath I have. Could you ever love me in return?"

The question was barely out of Draco's mouth before Harry stepped forward, erasing all ideas of space between them. Draco's breath stalled in his throat as every cell within him trained on Harry. Watching him. Waiting. Wondering what he was about to do and fearing for the worst, his anxiety feeling like it was working overtime.

Every second seemed to crawl by as if in slow motion. It took Harry exactly three steps to reach him, but he could have just as easily been running a marathon for how long it seemed to take for them to finally come face to face. Draco blinked furiously, attempting to jar his brain into catching up. His heart was going to explode from its erratic pace if he had to wait any longer.

In the end, Harry spoke no words. He didn't have to. His answer transcended speech. Its language was instead crafted from the gentle caress of Draco's jaw. From the soft, nearly-startled exhale, as if he couldn't believe his own actions. From the lingering hesitation on his lips as he leaned in and sealed them against Draco's. He gave his answer with unmatched boldness even while the chasteness spoke of his uncertainty.

His answer wasn't quite a "yes", but it definitely wasn't a "no", either. It was somewhere in between, toeing the line of maybes and somedays. It wasn't a promise, nor was it a denial.

It was a starting point, and Draco was all too happy to work with it.

Gently, so as not to startle him, Draco circled one arm around Harry's waist. He drew him in closer, deepening that breath-taking first kiss just enough to impart his passion. His understanding. His patience. His contentment with even just this soft commitment. And then he ended it, not wishing to cross any boundaries of comfort and risk ruining what he had just barely gained.

"Erm…," Draco started, just before the muddled stillness between them began to grow unbearable. "I think I'd like to dance some more if you'll join me?"

Harry chuckled softly, stepping back and putting head-clearing distance between them once more. His cheeks were tinged with a soft shade of pink as he reached up to muss his hair. "S-sure," he stuttered and Draco would swear he'd managed to make the man flustered, just for a second, as a moment later he morphed back into his confident self, wearing a cheeky grin. "But only if you promise not to do that weird flailing thing you attempted earlier. I can't be seen with you like that. I do have an image to uphold, you know."

Just like that, with one quick jab, everything settled back to normal. "Oh, come off it." Draco smirked, moving to walk beside Harry as they made their way back to the reception. He bumped their shoulders together before reaching to entwine their fingers. Only once Harry squeezed back instead of forcefully letting go did Draco grin and continue. "You know, just last week I saw you retrieve and eat a dumpling off a restaurant floor. By this point, I don't think you even have an image left to preserve."

"Those were life-saving dumplings! A man shouldn't be judged by the lengths he will go for good food. It's simply not fair."

Draco rolled his eyes and gripped Harry's hand even tighter. He would happily banter with this man for all eternity, especially if it meant holding this hand and kissing those lips even just one more time before he died.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the [Seven Shades of Summer anthology](/series/1788955), a series of Drarry fics exploring Summer Solstice traditions from different parts of Europe.  
>   
> There’s also a playlist created for this anthology that can be found [here on Spotify](https://spoti.fi/2TEsvGg); one song for each of the seven fics included in the collection.


End file.
